I originally had had an epilogue where Harry Potter had won, like it was in the books.

But I got bored.

Here's an AU.

Enjoy.

"He won," Luna whispered in- shock? Horror? Disbelief? "Voldemort won." She swayed where she stood, unable to believe the fate of the Boy Who Lived.

The Boy Who Lived no more.

Luna prayed- to whom, she didn't know. She knew the dark days awaited. "Oh my goodness, Blaise, what's going to become of us?" she asked, almost dreading the answer.

He'd managed to stay stoic when he clipped Luna's wings, he's strode out of the dungeon. The tang of smoke and ash lingered in his eyes and mouth, the acrid scent leaving the bile churning in his stomach. He went to his room and pulled out a bottle. He didn't even bother with a glass. Drink or sex, those were his releases. He had been notorious at Hogwarts, pleasuring both males and females, but it had all been consensual. Rough at times, but never forced.

That had changed.

So he settled with a bottle on a chair. He made it halfway through the burning liquid before he dropped it and the glass shattered. "Shit," he hissed, and clambered off the chair and to the floor.

He hated to waste good alcohol, and he couldn't remember the Replenishing Charm. He pressed his palms to the wood and swept away the shards of glass, not caring about the cuts and the blood. He was used to it.

He lowered his mouth, the mouth that his mother was so proud of ("Blaise, be glad you have my lips and not Pietro's horrible ones") to the whiskey and lapped it up. He tasted some of his blood, from his sliced hands. He hoped it would mask the taste of burning flesh from the revelry but it mixed with it. There Blaise Zabini crouched, on all fours like a dog, sucking his drink in his desperation for reparation to his soul. He didn't deserve it, even he knew it, but he would be damned if he knelt to the Dark Lord with a clear head.

Luna was an angel. He pitied her, as angels were too pure.

Pure beings were always the ones who could have the most pain.

His stepfathers had not been afraid to beat him the Muggle way.

He tried to forget about that as he beat the Muggleborns they had, because it was the Muggle way of pain.

He knew the blows to the gut and neck and spine that could paralyze the victim.

He knew that very well.

He wakes up and his inner lip is in shreds, the metallic tang of blood unforgiving and cruel. He finds gouges in his palms from his fingernails, clenching his fists so hard.

He wakes up like this many times.

After two months, it was time for another revelry. A celebration and an auction of the prisoners. The rebels who failed. Anyone who dared say anything other than Riddle's propaganda. And, of course, Muggleborns. July was usually the time Luna harvested her magical plants at home, and started her summer schoolwork.

So much had happened, each event cementing Luna's certainty that she was nothing more than a broodmare and slave.

Blaise and Luna had moved to Zabini Mansion. She was given more freedom. She was allowed to wear clothes and move about the house freely. But it was being allowed by Blaise, as her master, that made her mourn. She would never be truly free, unless she denounced the Order.

Luna had given birth to her baby, who had been whisked away minutes after she had birthed and placed under the care of house-elves. Her daughter was being trained to be the next heir of the Zabini line. She mourned her every day.

Blaise had offered to make her his wife. She had the option to live her life as a pureblooded lady, but as a Death Eater. No sooner had the words left his lips had her shaking her head.

There was an event, and as Blaise prepared, he warned her. "You will see many people you know, but it is important that you don't disclose that. They hate the idea of unity or friendship among the rebels. Just- just, keep your head down as always, make them believe you're mine."

Luna ran her hands over herself, dressed in lingerie that showed her as a pet, preparing herself to be gawked at again.

Blaise handed her one of his shirts. Without question, Luna gratefully put it on, and went to button it, and Blaise stopped her. "Let me brand you there, with my family crest, so they won't touch you. They'll think it's a slave bond, but it's a glamour. It'll protect you from them, though."

She left the shirt unbuttoned, but it provided more cover. It reached her mid-thigh.

When they reached Hogwarts, Luna stopped in confusion. Blaise saw her and answered, "Bellatrix converted it from a school to a place to torture prisoners and a place to hold meetings. She trains recruits there, too."

The hallways were clear of the suits of armor and portraits, and instead had-

Luna stopped in her tracks.

There were decaying bodies nailed along the walls, as sick trophies. Triumph was measured in bloodshed. Before her nausea could surface, Blaise placed a hand on the small of her back and urged her forward to the Great Hall.

The House tables were gone, as was the teacher table. The candles remained, perhaps the only thing reminiscent of Hogwarts, but they were hardly a consolation. The slight platform that the teacher's table was on served as a makeshift stage. Chairs were scattered throughout the room.

They sat how they were expected. How they always sat. Blaise took two drinks from a passing house-elf.

And the show began.

Death Eaters jeered as prisoners were brought out. Each was given a chance to join the Death Eaters or be sold. Only one- Cormac McLaggen- joined them. The spectators jeered. The others were sold. She saw Cho Chang, the Patil twins, Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot, Lavender Brown, Katie Bell, many more, all battered and squinting into the dimly-lit crowd. The bidding commenced, with Death Eaters using Lumos to stake their claims.

None of them noticed or recognized Luna, but Ronald Weasley did. When he was dragged out, being proclaimed as "Potter's lackey", squinting into the glare of Lumos, it didn't take him long to realize that Luna was the only schoolgirl in the lethal group of killers. And yet, he took the risk. Brave, impulsive, naive Ron bellowed, "LUNA!" and charged off the stage, fighting with his bound hands. "YOU BASTARD!" he screamed at Blaise, who stood, shifting Luna to her feet, and killed him with a wordless Avada.

The redhead fell.

A wail came from the stage, where Ginny Weasley saw her brother's murder.

No, the Weasleys would not go quietly.

But Marcus Flint claimed her quickly, his wand lit brightly in the air, and he smirked at Ginny from where he stood.

"I'll kill you for that!" Ginny screamed, to whom was unsure, and Flint had to Stun her to get her to stop fighting.

Luna was frozen, staring at the boy who had been kind to her at school (kinder than most, at least), looking meek in his state of death. He would never be at peace, his pale and gaunt face stuck in an expression of rage and shock. Ron Weasley had chosen to fight for her. Unfortunately, he would not be considered to have had an honorable death.

Blaise had sat back down, the bidding have resumed. Luna stared back at him, face twisted with anguish. He extended a hand and beckoned her back to his lap.

It was hardly fair, he thought, as he watched Blaise with his pet. She was quite pretty, underneath the strange jewelry she had favored at school. It was hardly fair that he got her for free, and that she was obedient and seemed to like him. She was a pureblood, and she wasn't a blood traitor. She was ideal. And Zabini, that fucker, was going to use her to get his perfect pureblood heirs. He watched them drink, speaking with their heads close together. He swigged his own drink, barely minding the burn, and the crafty Death Eater began to plan.

It had been barely a week since Luna had discovered her pregnancy. She knew that there were charms for abortion. She wanted to ask Blaise to help her. But she wanted something to live for. As much as she told herself she wanted to die to end the suffering, she had a buried voice deep inside her that told her that she could survive. And a darker part of her knew that the Death Eaters would want to keep her alive, for her pureblood spawn in her. They would not want to spill the blood of the Zabini heir. She figured having her baby would help her stay alive for herself. But she was digging herself into a pit, she was going to cave in.

When Blaise entered the bedroom, Luna disrupted their lifeless routine. When he hung up his Death Eater robes, Luna crossed the room and asked him, point-blank, "I'd like to have intercourse with you."

Blaise stopped short, his eyes full of questions. Luna stopped him from speaking. "I need to feel something again, Blaise," she said, "and using your razor to cut myself would only dull the blade."

His throat bobbed, his only sign of shock. "Whatever you need," he said, voice hushed. "Are you sure?"

"Are you?" she countered. "The least I can do is make sure you consent too."

Blaise flinched.

"I haven't been living since I pledged myself to him. I think we both need a release from reality." He massaged his neck, unsure, a chink in the easy assurance he so often used. "The moment you feel uncomfortable, you'll tell me to stop," he commanded.

"I'd like for you to be in charge, if that's alright." Luna knew that it was ironic, asking her rapist to have sex with her. It was twisted in her mind. She felt like she was drowning in guilt, she could not escape her own mind.

Blaise reached out and grazed her arm with his fingertips. His hand lingered, and went back into motion, unclasping her bra, bringing the straps over her arms, dropping it to the ground. He knelt down to remove the scrap of lace that was her underwear. His fingertips dragged back up the plane of her legs and up her waist and up her neck and cupped her face.

Luna ran her fingertips along Blaise's lips, tracing his eyes, jaw, trailing them down and unbuttoned his shirt. She kept her eyes closed as she pulled it off, and did the same for his pants and underwear. They stood facing each other, caressing their faces, naked and vulnerable.

When they were on the bed, Blaise entered Luna as gently as he could, and she exhaled and gripped his back, her forehead on his shoulder. Blaise kissed her collarbone and neck and cheeks.

When he began to thrust, Luna loosed a ragged, shaky breath and let herself go. She murmured, "Touch me like you love me," and he complied. He kissed her whole body and left her almost crying with sick relief, and they were both panting, and Blaise lay his forehead between her breasts, and she touched the back of his neck, and they lay listening to each other breathe.

They needed to breathe.

Would they ever be fixed?

Would they ever escape?

The next day, Luna noticed that Blaise's razor is gone from its place on the sink.

Zabini Mansion, as most estates, was used to detain the slews of prisoners. Hogwarts was overrun, as was Azkaban- the two largest properties in Wizarding Britain. So each loyal home took in people to do with what they pleased.

Blaise was better than most. He erected wards around his dungeons so no one could get in or out except for a select few, that being him, Luna, and the house-elves. He didn't torture them and they had heat and light. Luna brought them food, helping the house elves, once she found out that there were other people in the house.

She had discovered them by accident. She was exploring the house, and she found a door. In the Muggle fairy tales she had read, that type of brash curiosity never ended well for the hero, but nonetheless, she opened it and found a room where a dozen or so people resided in cells.

Rosario Weathervane-Hobson eyed the blonde angel suspiciously as she nudged open the dungeon door. He had been in captivity ever since the War, when Harry Potter had failed. He had been tortured before, but now, he was almost scared of the luck he had had so far. The young lord of the house; tall, dark and handsome; had simply given the dozen or so prisoners their own cell and had house-elves bring them food and clean them up twice a day.

But today, a slender teenage girl, looking like she could shatter from just a cool breeze, opened the door and was followed by the house elves bringing their meals. The prisoners stirred and murmured at the disturbance in the monotonous routine.

The house elves delivered the plates at each cell and vanished. Rosario picked at the meat and vegetables. "Hello, everyone," the girl said, her silver eyes unnerving Rosario. She was wearing a men's shirt unbuttoned over sheer lingerie and had a- tattoo? Dark Mark? on her midriff.

"I'm Luna Lovegood," she continued. "How are you all feeling?"

"What happened to you, sweetheart?" asked a motherly woman a few cells down from Rosario. He hadn't bothered to learn any of their names.

Luna blinked. "I was enslaved during the War in September 1997 to be Blaise's pet." She stated the facts as if she was commenting on the weather. Her hands fluttered nervously at her side.

The woman looked horrified. Rosario felt his stomach roll. She looked no older than seventeen. "You... you don't mean..." the woman sputtered.

"The Death Eaters told me that in retaliation to my father's actions, I was to be Blaise's sex slave," Luna said. "That's why I'm dressed like this. Personally, I would never choose to wear black."

Another captive piped up. He was younger, perhaps Luna's age. "Why are you here, talking to us?"

Luna took a seat in the middle of the cluster of cells, aware that eyes from every angle were on her. "I didn't know that every Death Eater kept prisoners. Blaise told me that the others tortured theirs. I wanted to see if he was doing to same to you." She scrutinized them. "I hope he hasn't."

"Does he do it to you?" asked the motherly woman with concern.

After a beat, Luna shook her head. "He hasn't done anything bad to me that he wanted to do. Blaise is master to all of us, but he doesn't make us submit to his power. He wields it unwillingly. But enough about me. I want," she said, smiling, "to know about you."

She walked around to each cell, and her calming presence soothed those who were skittish or scared. Rosario listened to them, and learned their names along with Luna. The motherly woman was named Lillian. The teenage boy was named Icarus.

When she reached him, the first thing he said was, "Can you tell- do you know what happened to my husband Titus Weathervane-Hobson? He was captured during an Order raid and I don't know what happened to him..."

Luna bit her lip and shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said, and Rosario could tell she meant it. "I don't know."

"Thank you anyways."

"Dearie, you look dead on your feet," Lillian said. "We'll be okay, you can go rest."

"No, it's okay, I feel bad I didn't know about you," Luna said, and Rosario wondered how she could smile during these dark times. She was a slave, for heaven's sake. Maybe Blaise Zabini wasn't as different as she thought. This girl might have been manipulated by him.

"Does he know you're here?" Rosario asked. Luna smiled and nodded.

Blaise entered the room then, and Rosario couldn't look at him without seeing a Death Eater. Luna didn't share his thoughts. She didn't recoil in disgust as he placed a hand on her back and brought her to the exit. He gave a nod to the room, and Luna left.

Rosario couldn't help but admire her. She was just like them, but had spent an hour talking to the prisoners she didn't even know, even though she was battling demons of her own.

All hell broke loose.

Shouting figures charged into the hallway, flinging curses wherever they could. Blaise pushed Luna to the ground and covered her body with his. When one of the attackers glimpsed Luna's blonde hair, they signaled the others to stop.

Luna was gasping. They weren't Death Eaters- they didn't have the silver masks. They were Order members.

She knew the bushy brown hair behind the dark blue bandanna. She knew the knit eyebrows and brown eyes. Hermione Granger stood, towering over them, wand aimed at Blaise, who was still covering Luna.

"Stand up, Zabini. Now," Hermione snarled. Then her face changed into a relieved expression. "Hi, Luna!"

Blaise stood up, and extended a hand to help Luna up. Hermione shot a jinx at Blaise's hand, which was gripping Luna's forearm. Blaise dropped it. "You don't touch her," Hermione said. She nodded to the others. "Make sure the wards are still up. Find any others. Seamus, stay here with me. Expelliarmus."

Blaise's wand flew out of his hand.

Luna buttoned her shirt, watching the debacle with wide, nervous eyes.

"Come on, Luna. We're here to save you and kill him."

Luna made to walk, but Blaise put a hand on her shoulder. "She's mine."

"The hell she isn't," Seamus growled. He rushed over to pin Blaise's arms behind him, so he couldn't touch his Dark Mark. Hermione jammed her wand to Blaise's temple. "Luna, come with us?"

"No."

Blaise and Luna spoke at the same time. Hermione pressed her wand harder into his head. "What do you mean, Luna?"

"I want to stay." Luna fought to get the words out.

"Stockholm Syndrome." Hermione sounded exasperated. "Luna, it's okay."

Luna felt so, so tired. At that moment, Seamus shifted, which Blaise took as an opportunity to twist away and make a grab for his wand. As Hermione and Blaise fought, Seamus came to Luna. "Come on, sweetheart, we won't hurt ya," the Irish said, sounding confused. "Are ya on our side or not?"

Luna felt so confused and sick and so exhausted. She didn't know what to do. She wanted to be seven again, sitting with her father as he read her books about her beloved magical creatures and listening to his stories. "I don't know what to do, Seamus, so I'll sit here and watch everything play out."

Luna's baby was named Katharina. Blaise and Luna were good parents. Two years had passed.

Katharina was almost three. She was the mirror image of Blaise, having inherited almost all of his aristocratic traits. Her eyes, however, were Luna's silver, the most dominant trait of the Lovegood genes (from a siren in their bloodlines centuries back). She was not oblivious to the world, to her mother's ache. She knew that her parents didn't love each other. She knew that her mother mourned. They both held her as they slept. She loved them both, but at her tender age, knew that the world was not right.

Blaise taught Katharina Italian, Luna taught her French, some Mermish dialects, some Giant, some Troll. Blaise brought her small trinkets from his missions, hold her hand as they walked the halls of the house, read her stories from The Tales of Beedle & Bard. Luna would rock herself in her room, waiting until Katharina was returned to her and she could breathe again.

"Mi amor," Blaise would call, and Katharina would run to him with open arms.

Blaise entered the dungeon. Luna stood, but rather than turning to leave, he faced his prisoners. "I'm going to need to take and torture one of you before the Dark Lord."

The room was quiet.

"I'll take the one with the dirtiest blood if none of you volunteer," Blaise said, cracking a small smile. He looked relaxed, almost bored, twirling his wand between his fingers.

He chose Seamus.

Luna didn't even remember Seamus's capture, probably from his and Hermione's failed attack. But she cried and embraced him. "Stay strong, Luna," he whispered, smiling gently. "It will be all right."

They walked behind Blaise. There were Death Eaters around them doing the same. Luna saw Draco Malfoy, with Ginny and Penelope Clearwater behind him. They all seemed to have a companion and a prisoner.

In the Great Hall, Blaise shoved Seamus to a section where all of the Death Eaters were depositing their prisoners.

They drank, and Bellatrix addressed the room. "The Dark Lord has demanded a show for his bountiful reign!" she preached. "You have all selected a tribute, a filthy animal chosen to be honored, more than they deserve. Give them a glorious death. We will nail their corpses at the Ministry, so any rebels will know that there is nothing they can do!"

When it was Blaise's turn, he grabbed Seamus's collar and threw him in the center of the room. With a swift stomp, he shattered Seamus's right kneecap so the Irish couldn't move. "I think," Blaise said, speaking slowly, "since you're half wizard and half Muggle, you'll be treated as such."

Luna saw, through her terror, Bellatrix smirk.

Blaise kicked Seamus in the ribs, the legs, the face.

Seamus didn't yell.

He grunted and choked and gasped, but no screams punctured the air. His bones crunched, he was coughing out blood. Luna wanted Blaise to stop. She didn't like seeing him as a Death Eater. She went to ask him to stop, but a cold hand held her wrist. Draco didn't look at her. His eyes were fixed on the shaking form of Seamus, a cold smile curling his lips. His iron grip made her hand go numb.

When Blaise used the Cruciatus on him, Seamus finally yelled. A spell that caused gashes to appear made him writhe. When Seamus made eye contact with a horrified Luna, she could see the life draining out of him. He mouthed, It will be all right. Blaise almost whispered "Avada Kedavra," and the spectators cheered.

Luna couldn't detach her eyes from Seamus's broken form, the blood pooling out from his wounds and staining the dirty floor. The Gryffindor's clear blue eyes were still open, fixed on the endless ceiling above.

Luna didn't remember getting home. When a hand grazed her shoulder, she jumped. There stood Blaise, his hands bloody. Luna gave a guttural, raw wail and slammed her hands into his chest. He barely moved, but she began crying as she landed blows on his shoulders. "I thought you were better than them, Blaise!" she sobbed, feeling her world spinning out of control. "I thought you were better."

He tried to calm her, placing his hands on her shoulders and waist, but they were still stained with Seamus's blood. The realization made Luna taste bile, and she began hyperventilating, her face twisted with grief. "No," she gasped, backing away. "No...no...no..."

She sank to the floor, clasping her hands around her neck, heaving. Seamus had been nice to her at Hogwarts. He had protected her from bullies a few times, partnered with her in the D.A. He had been dating Dean. He was brave, but more than just a Gryffindor. He was good.

He was gone.

Luna stayed on the ground for minutes or hours more. After she ran out of tears, she went to the dungeon, where the other prisoners looked up eagerly. "Is that your blood?" Lillian asked in horror.

Luna shook her head, willing herself not to cry. She needed someone to hug, but they were separated from her, in their damn cells. "Why is this so hard?" she asked, her voice breaking. "Why did he have to go?"

Rosario was the first to realize who she was talking about. "Seamus," the man said. "He's..."

Luna cried again, but she was so tired. She wrapped her arms around her waist. "I'm sorry," she said, but she couldn't look at anyone.

Blaise entered the room, and the prisoners quieted. On any other night, they would have yelled at him, but they had realized what he would do.

He was also holding Katharina in his arms.

"Luna," he said calmly. "Don't talk to them again."

"No," she whispered.

"I mean it," he said. "I forbid it, I'm warding you out. They're animals and traitors, the lot of them."

Luna stared at the man who held their baby, who still had blood on his clothes.

Blaise placed a hand on her neck and pushed her towards the door. It wasn't forceful, it was almost gentle, but she felt the command and the threat.

Was he becoming a monster?

Blaise watched Luna walk up the steps and turned back to the prisoners. His prisoners. "You need to leave her alone," one of them said angrily.

He turned to the one who spoke and came closer to the cell. He was aware of everyone's eyes on him, everyone holding their breath. "You're bold," he said. "I came in here because I realized that I've been too kind with you. I have most of you because you're pureblooded rebels with the almost-dead Order of the Phoenix. Now, starting tomorrow, I'm going to interrogate each of you. And you're going to give me what I want."

"Like hell I will," the same man spat. Blaise guessed that they were the same age. "Leave Luna alone and go fuck yourself."

He only smiled a bit and shifted Katharina in his arms. "I realized," he said, addressing all of them, "that you've never seen me with my daughter. She's perfect, isn't she? Just like Luna."

They seemed unsure of where he was taking the conversation.

"It would be a shame if they were to become imperfect."

He saw more than a few mouths fall open.

Blaise turned and left the dungeon.

He gave Katharina to one of the elves and went to his room. A part of him questioned what he was doing. But he knew it was for the best. Everything for his Dark Lord. He wouldn't be weak. He would-

What was he doing?

Oh yes. He was doing-

What sins stained his name?

Icarus was seething when that Death Eater prick entered the room, ordered Luna around. He saw the way she flinched and shied away when he was around. He had thought that he wasn't that bad, but tonight had proved him wrong.

He had loved when Luna came, loved her smile and words and hope. She was the only thing he had looked forward to in the boring cycle of eat and sleep and wait. In a different world, he would have asked her on a date. Maybe Katharina would have been his child. But not at this age.

In contrast, he had hated when Zabini came, even though his visits had been brief. He knew that he would kill him if he ever got out of his cage. He had loved Seamus like a brother, their cells had been next to each other. They had swapped stories about their time at school, their boyfriends and girlfriends and friends.

He was too numb with rage to cry for Seamus. He would avenge him, and Luna, and everyone else.

"Hi handsome," Piper cooed, placing a hand on the striking man's shoulder. He had regal features and a stoic exterior. "Mind if I join you?"

He didn't respond, only sipped his drink.

Piper had eyed him for the majority of the time she had been there. The bar was calm for a Friday night, and she wanted to bring a bloke back to her flat. She was feeling forlorn after she ended a two-year relationship, and she wanted to let her hair down a bit.

"What's your name?"

"Pietro," he muttered.

Piper was used to closed off responses. She was constantly on the receiving end of them, from her ex-boyfriend and family and friends. She wanted to unravel this impassive person. She shifted her chair closer, put a hand on his shoulder. "Do you want to-"

"I have a wife," he interrupted. "And a daughter."

Piper removed her hand.

She felt foolish for not checking his left hand. "Oh," she stammered. "I'm sorry, I just-"

"It's fine," he said. "It's just- I wish I wasn't. With her, I mean."

"How so?" she asked curiously.

He loosed a sigh. "She's been through a lot, and I'm not good for her, but-"

"You love her," Piper guessed, all previous intents forgotten.

Instead of blushing or denying it, Pietro nodded, reached into his shirt pocket, and pulled out a small picture. It was a picture of a pretty, doll-like girl with blonde hair. She was sleeping, her face turned to the side, hair splayed out around her like a halo. She looked peaceful and delicate.

"What's her name?" Piper asked. They were both unearthly beautiful.

He hesitated before saying "Aurora."

He wasn't sure why he used his father's name, why he gave Luna his mother's name, why he had been carrying a Muggle picture all this time, why he went to that Muggle bar. When he had raided Luna's house, he had went to her father's study and found pictures of Luna, both Muggle and magical, everywhere. He had taken one, and burned the house.

He wasn't sure why he spoke to the Muggle girl.

Blaise entered Luna's room and found Luna sitting on the floor against the wall. She looked up at him, just like she had when he raped her for the first time, so very long ago. "Why are you so beautiful, Blaise?" she whispered hoarsely. She knew she was lapsing back into insanity, but she didn't fight anymore. "You're so beautiful, but you're a monster. You killed Seamus.

"I took off your shirt because I didn't want your protection. But I'm trapped in here."

She covered her mouth with her hand, wiped away her tears. "I still need you, Blaise," she choked. "I hate that I still need you."

Luna Lovegood had broken.

"Hold me," she said, and her voice broke.

Blaise picked her up, and she cried harder.

One of the house elves looked away from his portrait cleaning. He had forgotten his name because his master only knew the name of one elf. And it wasn't his. He saw his master holding Miss Luna close to him as she cried.

The elf knew that he loved Miss Luna as much as an elf could. She was kind and treated him like he was more than a slave. She smiled at them and thanked them. He liked her more than his master.

His master turned the corner and vanished from his view, and one of the portraits barked at him to get back to polishing his frame.

So the elf returned to his work, but he prayed for Miss Luna.

"Hi, miss," Dobby said, standing in the middle of her room.

Luna clambered off her bed. "Dobby?" she asked incredulously, with faint hope in her voice. "Are you real?"

"You need to come with me to the dungeon, miss."

"Does Blaise know you're here?"

"No," the tiny elf squeaked. "Be quiet, miss, your father is in his dungeon, he is."

Luna lowered her voice. "Are you working with the Order?"

"Yes I am, miss," he said proudly. "We is a small group, but mighty."

Dobby grabbed Luna's wrist and Apparated into the dungeon with a tiny pop! Luna saw her gaunt, frail father. Xenophilius Lovegood, once vibrant and whimsical, slumped against a wall in his cell, eyes sunken and hollow. Luna crouched in front of the bars, trying to contain her tears. The other prisoners watched, as they so often did.

"Daddy?" she asked.

Xenophilius looked at her eyes. The father had the same silver eyes as his daughter.

"Luna," he rasped weakly. "My girl."

Luna wiped her cheeks. "I've missed you," she whispered. "I wish I could hug you."

He cupped her face through the bars. "You need to take any chance you get to...to..." He gave a hacking cough. "You need to get out. Take her with you, elf," he begged. "Please. Protect my daughter."

"And your granddaughter," Luna choked. "I have a daughter. She's Blaise's."

Xenophilius began crying. Nearby, Lillian wiped away a tear at the reunion. Dobby lingered in the shadows.

"Luna!" Icarus cried in a warning.

Without looking, Luna knew. "Dobby, take Katharina and go!" she called.

Blaise took her by the hair and yanked her away from Xenophilius. Her father shouted angrily and reached through his cell, but clutched his throat the next second as he coughed.

"Family reunion," Blaise said. His eyes were manic, he was breathing heavily. "Should I track down that elf to bring MY daughter back? Is he one of mine?"

"Blaise," Luna mumbled. "Don't-"

He slapped her, sending the prisoners into fits of anger and fear, and then grabbed her, holding her against his tense and coiled body. "Things are going to change, mi amor," he purred. "I've been too lenient with you."

Icarus howled as he was cursed, Blaise's wand aimed at him, but Luna grabbed at his arm. "Mistake." Blaise shoved her to the ground. He glanced up at the captives. "You don't like it when I treat my pet this way?"

"She's not yours," Xenophilius spat, shaking from the effort it took him to speak.

His knees pushed her legs down, one hand was on her neck. The other hand pulled down her underwear, leaving it around her knees. Luna screamed as his wand touched her waist, carving crude letters: BZ.

His initials were branded on her.

Blaise kissed her, running his hands all over her body, making her feel dirty and trapped. She did not want his touch. But he did not let her go. "Stop," Lillian snarled, with more anger in her voice than any of them had heard.

"Now, Luna, they need to be punished, but so do you. So I will let you choose which one I kill. It'll be quick, but one of your friends has to die. Any time you come down here with that elf, one will die. I will know everything you do. Now choose."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Blaise's hands left her skin. She stood up on shaky legs. She prayed to whomever would listen.

Lillian and Icarus and Rosario and Corila and Maximus and all of the people she had grown to care for, all of the people who had helped her, cried as she clawed at her skin. Her father was whispering, trying to comfort her. Blaise stared at her with a twisted smile.

The man that stood before her was different than the one she had come to known. She had no idea what made him change, but she did not see the teenage recruit that cried for his dead younger sister. Instead, she saw a monster, who had become what he had detested.

And she saw that he liked it. Luna knew what she had to do.

She let him kiss her again, ignoring the fact that she was in front of her father and friends. Blaise welcomed her touch, slipping his tongue in her mouth. He tasted of alcohol. After waiting several agonizing seconds, she stepped back. "I don't know who you are anymore," she whispered. "You've become one of them. Please, I'll give myself to you, I just did. Please don't kill them."

"PICK!" he shouted. "Or I'll kill all of them slowly!"

Luna's hand shook, but she pointed to Icarus. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "I'm so, so sorry."

"It's okay, Luna," he whispered.

Blaise reached for his wand.

But it wasn't there.

Luna leveled Blaise's wand at him, barely able to control her movements. She was crying so hard she could barely see. "I'm sorry," she said again.

Blaise lunged at her, but she had already spoken the words. "Avada Kedavra."

Blaise fell.

When her master lay dead at her feet, Luna snapped back to reality, and she began to scream. The prisoners watched with bated breath. Luna didn't stop screaming as she knelt to Blaise's body, already beginning to cool. She screamed until her voice gave out, unable to fathom what she had done. Her hands were bloody from her fingernails digging into her skin. She still clutched Blaise's wand.

She lay down next to him. Closed her eyes. Ignored the others calling to her. "Dobby," she whispered.

Dobby appeared. "Oh, miss," he squeaked. "Let's go. The Order is waiting."